


Still Good

by kay_bee_cee



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, POV Outsider, cause I can no longer be satisfied with just one found family, no one asked for this but here you go anyways!, two of them actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_bee_cee/pseuds/kay_bee_cee
Summary: James has two current life goals: finish his debut novel, and run the best Genius Bar electronics repair store in LA. The first one is going...well, it's going. But the second one is going outstandingly. Or at least, it was, until a thorn named nestled itself into his side; a rambling, classic rock-singing, phone destroying thorn named Jack Dalton.Or: the poor Genius Bar employees fix increasingly impossible damages to Jack's phones, and wonder what the hell this man and his oddly endearing kids do for a living
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Jack Dalton & Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver, Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis & Jack Dalton
Comments: 27
Kudos: 57





	Still Good

**Author's Note:**

> "This is my family. I found it all on my own. It's little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good." -Lilo & Stitch
> 
> So, I barely know this fandom, and this was just supposed to be something to do to kill time hanging around with my family while they watched the Super Bowl. Clearly, it got away from me, as I'm now finishing and posting it five hours before I need to be waking up.
> 
> Regardless, I am pretty proud of it, and I hope you enjoy it :)

James has two current life goals: finish his debut sci-fi spy novel, and run the best Genius Bar electronics repair store in LA. The former is going...well, it’s going. Sure, he hasn’t written a word since he started it three months ago and, after six gruelling hours, wrote one masterpiece of a concluding sentence (“W7 smiled to himself, and drove.”). But the latter is going _outstandingly_. Or at least, it had been, until a thorn nestled its way into his side. A rambling, classic rock-singing, phone breaking machine of a thorn named Jack Dalton.

Who is Jack Dalton, you ask? Oh, only James’s mortal enemy. At least every other week, he bursts into James’s beloved Genius Bar with some new phone malady or malfunction that should by all means have been impossible. James is the proud manager of the only Genius Bar in LA with a 98% repair rate. It had been 99% before Dalton came along, and if it drops one more percentage point, he’ll be tied with Beau _freaking_ Freeburg’s store. If that happens, James will wring Dalton’s neck with his own bare hands, or (far more likely) die trying. 

Freaking Freeburg. James shakes his head. Beau Freeburg is the manager of the third downtown Genius Bar store. It’s stupid and ‘modern’ and doesn’t hold any of the charm James ensures his store has. He doesn’t pull late shifts and pay the kids extra to keep 6-midnight hours for phone emergencies. Hell, James is almost completely sure he poaches old Geek Squad techies instead of training his own employees. That’s not how a real Genius Bar is run. 

“James?” As if summoned by his thoughts, his newest hire pops her head into the break room where James is taking his lunch break. “There’s a guy with a broken phone in the front.”

“Okay, can you handle him on your own?” He _just_ microwaved his leftover pasta.

“I think so,” she nods. 

“Take down the information, tell him to come get it in 48 hours, and if it looks like you’re going to have to replace it instead of repairing it…”

“Come get you, I know.” The 98% record will _not_ be broken without his input.

“And if he gets aggressive about it…”

“Kick him out or come get you. I _know_.” She rolls her eyes. “I got this.”

“Thanks, TJ.” In a move defying company hiring policy, she refuses to tell him what the T or J stand for. Technically, he needs her full legal name to hire her, but she’s a quick learner and works great with his other employees, so he hired her anyway. She seems like a good kid and James is fairly certain she’ll be a solid addition. If she can stop making heart eyes at Lily, one of the other young employees, that is.

He kicks his feet up on a table as he eats his lunch, enjoying some quiet. It’s been an oddly busy morning. Never underestimate how many people in Los Angeles need devices repaired on Tuesday mornings, apparently. He’s just unwrapped the last Milky Way from his hidden stash when TJ comes back in, looking like she’s seen a ghost. “Uh, James?”

“What do you need? Was he aggressive? Are you okay?” She still looks a little dazed, not answering his questions. “Hey, talk to me, kid. What’s going on?”

“I, um, I think your repair record might be ruined,” she blurts out. “It’s so broken. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Okay, is the guy still waiting out there?” James has seen technology issues beyond any level of stupidity he could have imagined. Everything from a dead laptop battery to a phone dropped off the side of a parking garage, he’d dealt with it. At this point, he doubts anything can come through those doors that he hasn’t seen yet.

“Yeah. I said I had to check with my manager. About insurance,” she says.

“Insurance? Why insurance?”

TJ shrugs. “I panicked. James, it’s _so_ broken.” He must look skeptical, because she jumps into an explanation. “It’s cracked clean open. Half the inside parts are missing or attached where they shouldn’t be. And half of a deflated football is stuck to the back.”

A sense of dread already taking place in his guy, he gestures for TJ to lead the way out front. Sure enough…”Mr. Dalton!” James forces his best customer service smile. “What’s the issue today?”

“Hey, it’s Jim!” Every single time the man is in here, James introduces himself. Not to mention, he has a name tag in clear view on the collar of his shirt. And yet, months later, Dalton is still calling him ‘Jim’. “Well, like I told TJ here--” TJ gets her name right on the first go? Is this man _trying_ to make James want to fix his phone solely for the pleasure (and oh would it be a pleasure) of smashing it again? “--my buddy was trying to chuck this football and stick it to our other buddy’s roof, but it stuck to my phone instead.”

“Mhm. And what’s going on with the missing parts in here?” 

Dalton feigns innocence. “Huh. Must’ve dropped them.”

“You dropped the entire battery and just didn’t notice?” James narrows his eyes, but Dalton just stares back, deadpan.

“Must have.” There’s another thing about Dalton that drives him mad. None of his stories could possibly be true; he doesn’t even bother lying _well_ to the man pulling late nights, at his wit’s end trying to figure out what to do with his phone this time.

“Where’d you lose the whole back of the thing?” Batteries don’t just _fall out_ , James wants to scream.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here looking for a new one,” Dalton says.

“Right. Well, the, uh, football should come off fairly easily. We’ll just have to wash the screen a few times. And we’ll grab a new battery--TJ, could you…” she ducks beneath the counter to search for a battery, “--and then you should be all good. Try to keep it away from footballs this time, huh?”

“Sure thing.” He looks abashed. James isn’t fooled. Fifteen minutes later, the screen has been cleaned off and is lit up thanks to the new battery. James passes it back to him, putting all his willpower into keeping a friendly face. “Thanks, Jim!” he exclaims, and takes his leave.

TJ turns to James, who’s now seething at the door. “What was that?”

“Jack Dalton, the bane of my existence.”

***

“You put your phone in the microwave?” James can’t believe this. One, he can’t believe anyone would be so stupid as to put their phone in a microwave, though Dalton seems to have a mission in life to surpass the traditional bounds of how stupid a person can be with their electronics. And two, a microwave wouldn’t do this level of damage, unless you left it in there long after it set fire.

“Well, not deliberately,” Dalton says. “How dumb do you think I am?” _Oh, you don’t want me to answer that_ , James thinks. “It was an accident.”

“And you grabbed it out right away?”

“Soon as I realized it wasn’t in my pocket,” Dalton nods.

“Then this shouldn’t have done this much damage,” James says. “It would take time for the wires to melt and erode this much in a microwave.”

“Now I’m starting to think _you’ve_ put your phone in a microwave.” TJ, who’s still in the early stages of Dalton exposure, finding him amusing, struggles not to laugh. A sharp glare (James) and an elbow to the ribs (Spencer) are the only things that stop her, but her muted chuckles still earn her an approving grin from Dalton. _That’s not an accomplishment, kid_.

“No, I just know a lot about electromagnets and wire erosion,” James says. “The silicon is melted right off the wires. Thirty seconds in a microwave doesn’t do that.”

“I have a very powerful microwave,” Dalton shrugs. “Cost extra and everything.” 

Deciding this is a futile argument, James studies the phone again. There’s no fixing this one. The drop of his winning repair rate flashes before his eyes, and, well, James isn’t proud of what he does next.

“Okay, the good news is that this is fixable!”

Dalton, along with TJ and Spencer behind him, looks surprised. “It is?”

“Yep,” James smiles. “But you’re gonna need some parts we don’t have in stock here right now. So I’m going to send you to the store downtown, right across from the new Chipotle--you know the one?” Dalton nods. “Great. You ask for the manager, Beau, and tell him James,” he says the name pointedly, “sent you.”

Dalton leaves to do just that, and the second he’s out the door, Spencer and TJ turn on James. “It’s _fixable_?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “That’s Freeburg’s problem now.” The kids still stare at him incredulously. “What? I’m not letting Dalton mess up our repair rate, not today.”

“What if Freeburg actually fixes it?” Spencer asks. Neither of the kids have actually met Freeburg. Lily saw him once at a company mixer James brought her along to, and after that there was no denying the validity of James’s hatred. No one was just _that_ nice; Lily must have picked up on his underlying evil.

“Then we never have to deal with Dalton again,” James says. “It’s a win-win. Don’t you two have jobs to do?” 

***

Almost three weeks pass, and James thinks maybe Dalton really has switched locations, or better yet, stopped habitually breaking phones. It’s late on a Thursday night, and James is just about to find Spencer to offer a ride home when the door opens. “Hey, welcome to the Genius Bar, what’s your electronic crisis?”

“Broken phone,” the customer says. James turns around, finished with his nightly sorting of spare parts, and sees a young blonde man. And next to him, as if he could hear James’s thoughts, is Dalton.

Goddamnit. Just when James lets his guard down, thinks he can finally run his store in peace again, the Phone Terminator returns. And he didn’t come alone, either. His companion is about the right age that he could be Dalton’s son, though there isn’t much of a resemblance between them, and upon second glance, both men look a bit battered and exhausted. There’s a glimpse of dried blood hidden beneath the blonde man (son?)’s hair. James can’t figure out what the two had been doing, but he has no doubt it’s related to the phone. The phone, which Dalton all but slams onto the counter, has a shattered screen and once again, the back is nowhere to be found. 

“What happened this time?” he asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Screw poker faces, poker players need Customer Service Faces, James decides.

Dalton turns a pointed look on the blonde man. Oh yeah, that’s the face of an unimpressed father. “You wanna tell Jim what happened to the phone, Mac?”

The son, Mac, pulls off the embarrassed expression with more sincerity than Dalton, though it’s a low bar, as James has a very solid theory that Dalton is incapable of shame. “We went camping. There was a really big spider.”

“And?” James has a horrible idea of where this is going.

“I threw the phone at it.” James can’t even respond to that one. 

“He threw the damn phone at it,” Dalton echoes.

“Yeah, he heard me the first time,” Mac snaps. Turning to James, he defends himself. “It was a really big spider, man.”

“Oh, you’ve gotten way too used to the city. Growing up--”

While the father and son bicker, James yells into the break room. “Spencer! I’m gonna need reinforcements on this one, buddy.” Spencer walks out a few seconds later, instantly recognizing Dalton. 

“--just get your phone fixed and go home?” Mac’s saying, rolling his eyes, and James thinks he’d get on with TJ like long-lost twins.

“Right,” James cuts him off, “I’m gonna send you guys over to Spencer; they’ll take a look at that screen for you. And I’ll fire up a new battery.”

Spencer waves from one of the stations by the door. Dalton looks from them back to James, then back again. “Where’s the other one? You said two.”

“No, I said Spencer. They’ll deal with that screen for you.” Swear to God, if Dalton is a dick about the kid’s pronouns, which are a new development that James is working _very_ hard to make Spencer comfortable with, James will chuck him and his stupid phone out the door without a second thought, repair rate be damned.

Dalton opens his mouth to say something again, but his son elbows him and he swallows the words. The sole reason James lets him stay is that he looks more confused than anything else. At least his kid seems nice enough, even if he apparently lacks a bit of common sense around spiders.

They head over to Spencer, and James keeps half an eye on them while he roots around for a battery. He should start keeping a separate stash for Dalton-related purposes, especially if there’s two of them now.

Mac hands the phone to Spencer, and then picks up the argument again. They’re more hush-hush about it this time, but the store is otherwise silent and they’re not as quiet as they seem to think.

“Did we really have to go with the spider story?” Mac complains.

“Sorry, the guy who breaks the phone doesn’t get to pick the story,” Dalton shoots back.

James can _hear_ the eye roll from across the store. “Would you rather have explained to Matty why we didn’t get it, and/or died?”

“You got that freaky brain, can’t you think of any solutions where my brand-new phone doesn’t suffer?” Spencer glances at James, utterly confused.

“You wouldn’t need new phones all the time if you’d just let me and Riley fix them.” James just shakes his head. They’ll soon learn not to question things when it comes to Dalton.

“Hell no. He who breaks the phone doesn’t get to fix it.” Spencer, done inspecting the shattered screen, clears their throat awkwardly.

“Uh, I’m going to replace this screen,” they announce. “It’s less expensive than replacing the whole phone, even with the new battery. I can have it done in 48 hours.”

“Right, sounds good,” Dalton nods. “Thank you. Ah, crap, sorry--thank y’all.” The other three all go dead silent. No. He can’t possibly think…

Mac is the one who gains the nerve to ask. “Wait, do you...do you think they/them means identifying as...as a plural?”

Dalton shoots him a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ look. “Well, duh. They, that’s more than one.” Mac doubles over laughing. Spencer, not even offended at this revelation, soon follows suit. Dalton looks at the two of them, baffled. “What?” His son starts to respond, but cuts himself off with another laugh. “Kid, what? What am I missing?”

Spencer gathers themself while Mac is still dying, looking close to falling over, and James is just unable to form words. “I’m non-binary. I’m one person, just one person who doesn’t use the gender binary.”

“Ah. Right. That actually makes more sense,” the Destroyer of Phones, thankfully not a complete prick, says.

Spencer just grins and gives him the total price. Dalton hands over a credit card and turns to leave, but faces one issue. Every time his son so much as looks in his direction he bursts out laughing. Dalton just sighs long-sufferingly, grabs his arm, and drags the still cackling kid out to the car.

Spencer looks a bit shell-shocked as they leave. “Is he for real?”

“You know, I think he is.”

***

James walks into the store to start his shift and hears...arguing? Between Lily and TJ, it sounds like. He furrows his brow. That’s a new one. TJ isn’t at her most coherent around Lily, sure, but usually that results in rambling that Lily thankfully finds endearing. They bicker sometimes, but so do TJ and Spencer, or Spencer and Lily, or hell, any (or all) of the three and James. Lily never gets irritated by it, and TJ usually looks freaking delighted (Lily is brilliant but not necessarily observant, to James’s eternal chagrin).

“--should have told me! I would have rescheduled,” Lily is saying.

“Lily, it’s _fine_. I don’t even care,” TJ insists. 

“Hey!” James cuts in quickly. “What’s going on here? Lily, don’t you have somewhere to be?” He’d agreed to take the last two hours of her shift because after two years of playing Tuesday nights and Saturday afternoons, Lily’s finally gotten the Friday night performance slot at their favorite restaurant. Well, it served okay sandwiches, really solid pizza and drinks, but really it was a classic LA music scene first. She’s already dressed up in a white floral dress, jean jacket, and a hat. “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” Lily says, but it’s still forceful. “Did she tell you it was her birthday today?” she accuses.

“What?” he spins to face the younger employee. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? You know we do birthdays around here; we just celebrated Spencer’s last month.”

“It’s not a big deal! I don’t even want a celebration, I just want to go see Lily’s show, eat some supermarket cake, and get a reasonable amount of sleep for once.”

“If that’s what you really want to do, that’s fine,” he says, a bit exhausted already at having to explain this, “but you still should have told us. You only turn--how old _are_ you?”

“Twenty-one, now,” TJ says reluctantly. 

“What the hell, kid, you didn’t think that was important?”

“That’s a huge milestone birthday!” Lily adds. “We have to buy you your first drink!”

“I don’t really intend to be much of a drinker,” the other girl shrugs. “And we’re all going to your show together anyways, we were basically already celebrating.”

“Then we’ll buy you a freaking milkshake! The point is that it’s an important day and we want to enjoy it with you.” James has never heard anyone be so aggressively kind.

“Okay, okay, fine, you win,” TJ exclaims. “I will let you buy me supermarket cake.”

“That’s all I ask,” Lily grins. TJ has to turn away under the guise of watching a car in the parking lot to hide her blush, and really, if James had wanted to watch a teen movie romance play out before his eyes, he would’ve become a high school teacher. It would’ve paid about the same. He’s about to say as much, but TJ speaks first.

“Isn’t that Dalton’s car?”

“Ah shit, yep.” The girls both look at him oddly at the decisiveness. He just gestures at the car emphatically. “That’s his license plate. Lils, can you stick around for just a few more minutes? We’re gonna need all the man--uh, person-power we can get.”

“Sure thing, boss.” She clips her name tag to her jacket.

Sure enough, Dalton saunters through the front door, followed by his son and a young woman that hasn’t been in before. “Hey, Jim!”

Ugh. “Hey there, Jack. Mac.” The rhyming family name thing is a bit cheesy, James thinks. He turns to the young woman. “And…?”

“Riley,” she says with a short, polite smile. 

“And just what issue have you got today?” James can name a few off the top of his head, but none of them are tech-related or permissible at work.

Instead of answering, Dalton looks at Lily. “I feel underdressed. Did we miss a new dress code announcement or something?” Riley and Mac roll their eyes in unison. It’s a talent, really, one James has come to admire in his employees when it’s not directed at him.

“Nope,” Lily starts to say in her smiley customer service persona, but TJ gets there first.

“She’s playing a gig tonight,” she says with a slightly devilish gleam in her eyes.

“Hey, that’s rad,” Riley grins. “Good for you.” 

“Thank you,” Lily says, with a devilish glint of her own that makes James wary. “We’re celebrating her twenty-first as well.”

“Twenty-one, huh?” It’s TJ’s turn to nod with the customer service smile. “That’s a big one; congrats,” Dalton says.

“We’ll hurry it up in here then,” Riley says, looking purposefully at Dalton. James fights the urge to say ‘yes, please’. Watching Lily perform and dealing with Dalton isn’t even in the realm of a tough choice.

“Right.” Dalton drops his phone on the counter. It’s...actually intact for once? James assumes Dalton is screwing with him and is about ready to snap at him for it when he gives a pointed glance at Riley and Mac. They each drop a phone next to the first.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” TJ asks, impatient to get out of here in favor of Lily’s gig.

Riley and Mac look expectantly at Dalton, but he just makes an ‘all you’ gesture. Mac sighs. “We switched a bunch of the parts between the phones, to try to exchange the data and stuff without any file sharing.”

“Okay, and…?”

“We don’t know which parts are from which phone anymore,” Riley admits.

“They’re both certifiable geniuses,” Dalton deadpans.

“Hey, I thought she was writing it down,” Mac says defensively.

“I thought he could remember!” While those two squabble, James turns to Dalton.

“Kids, huh?” He still hates Dalton and the chaos that permanently lies in his wake with the burning, fiery passion of a thousand suns, but knows first hand the horrors of brilliant, scheming young minds.

“Oh, yeah,” he sighs. “Dedicate years of your life to looking out for them, and this is the thanks you get.” 

“Excuse you, we made a nice, hot cup of coffee for you as an apology for the phone thing!” Riley says indignantly. 

“It was cold,” Dalton says.

“Okay, a nice cup of coffee.”

“It tasted like shit.”

“Cup of coffee!” Mac exclaims

“It couldn’t really be classified as coffee,” Dalton argues. Mac throws his hands in the air.

“It was a cup! We brought you a cup, you can’t dispute that,” he says victoriously

“Yes, thank you two for delivering me a useless mug.” Now, Lily is well-versed in the walking hurricane that is Dalton, but this is her first time seeing him and his son together, not to mention Riley, who looks nothing like either of them, but there’s no chance they’re not all related after this interaction. 

“And this is why we don’t do nice things for you more often.” Dalton just shakes his head. 

Lily takes pity on him. “Right, we can sort out all the pieces-parts for you, it’ll just take some time. Is Monday okay?”

“That’ll do,” he nods. 

“Alright, we’ll see you then,” Lily says. “Try not to deconstruct anything else until then.”

“We’ll do our best,” Riley says. “No promises.”

“Happy birthday,” Mac hollers over his shoulder as they leave. 

James just watches them go, still confused by the sheer chaos of that family. Then again, he knows better than anyone that sometimes, weird families are the best kind.

***

The Dalton clan gets their phones back on Monday. Barely a full week later, Dalton is back, though it’s just him this time. “Morning, Jim,” he says.

“Good morning, Jack,” James greets, and hopes any annoyance in his voice can be passed off as tiredness. It’s early enough that it’s just him working, so the burden of Dalton is fully on him alone. “What can I do for you today?”

“The usual. Lost a battery.” Does this man genuinely think cell phone batteries grow on trees? Is he feeding them to the squirrels? Sacrificing them to the gods?

“Do I even want to know how?” It’s not going to be the truth, it never is, but it might at least be entertaining.

“Nothing exciting this time. Computer died, thought maybe the phone battery was interchangeable.”

“It’s not,” James says. “Plus, your computer isn’t even the same brand.” He would know; he’s fixed that a few times too.

“Yeah, I figured that out after a dozen tries and one throw across the room.” Dalton at least looks like he feels a little guilty about it. James doubts he really does, but at least he knows he should. “It was a long weekend at work.”

James grabs a new battery. There’s now a drawer full of them directly under the register. He sets it up to charge, and decides hell, he may as well make small talk. “No kids today?” The kids and their banter are the only somewhat enjoyable part of Dalton’s visits.

“What?” he starts, apparently having zoned out. Or maybe fallen asleep, judging by the dark circles under his eyes. “Oh, no. Riley’s still knee-deep in a project. The, uh…” he gestures vaguely, “the other one is sleeping off a few all-nighters. It was a _long_ weekend at work.”

“Sounds like it.” James wonders what the three of them do for a living. Probably not anything normal. He pities the boss who has to deal with all three of them on a daily basis. They wait the rest of the time in silence. “Well, here you go. Think we can get through the end of the month with this one? These batteries do have pretty long shelf lives, you know. Like, years.”

Dalton just laughs. “See you next week, Jim.”

***

When the door opens with five minutes left to closing on a Wednesday night, James doesn’t even bother looking up from his repair project. “I’ll grab a battery for you in a second, Dalton,” he says, trying as usual to keep the note of frustration from his voice. Hell, not even a note of frustration, it’s a damn concerto worth of irritation. Sometimes he wonders if Dalton isn’t an elaborate ruse sent by corporate to test his patience. And James is very short on patience this week. His mother is in town, insisting he come straight home from work every day to see her so she can subject him to more badgering about when she’s going to get grandkids or ‘just a daughter-in-law already’.

He steels his face in a painfully fake smile and turns around to greet...not Dalton. Not any of the Daltons, even. It’s a man he’s never seen before with a pale, sunken face and a serene smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“My bad,” James says. “Thought you were a regular. What can I do for you tonight?”

“Dalton?” the man asks instead of answering. “Jack Dalton?”

“That’s the one. You know him?” He doesn’t seem like the kind of person Dalton would hang around with, but then again, James doesn’t actually know the man that well. He just fixes his phone far too often.

“Oh, in passing. We have mutual friends. Does he come in here often?” 

“Yeah, he and his son pop in pretty regularly.” It’s late and he doesn’t want to discuss Dalton when he doesn’t have to. He has a solid practice of ignoring his existence if at all possible. “Can I help you with something?”

“His son?” the man prompts with a strange, somewhat off-putting curiosity. Now, James is a Genius Bar manager and an amateur novelist, not a detective, but he’s not completely incapable of reading people. This odd man doesn’t seem like good news, and James has no intentions of telling him more about Mac, who’s only fault is his unfortunate parentage, than he already knows.

“It’s real close to closing time, sir, is there something you need?” It’s late and he’s alone in his store; James is already feeling a bit wary. But his healthy caution didn’t prepare him for the shocking appearance of a gun in his face.

“I _need_ you to tell me about Jack Dalton’s son,” the man says with a grin that’s anything but friendly. “Now.”

On their first day of training, James teaches his employees what to do if the Genius Bar is ever robbed. It really comes down to one critical point--”your life is more valuable than anything in this store”. If someone holds a gun and asks for something, you give it to them. This situation is a bit different, but he would be a hypocrite if he died by ignoring his own advice. And the first step to keeping both him and Mac safe is getting this gun out of his face and this psycho out of his store.

So he very slowly holds his hands up, and begins to speak. “His son. Blonde kid. Named Matt or something. Probably twenty-five or so.” 

He never said he’ll make it easier than it has to be.

The psycho starts to laugh. A sharp burst of fear hits James. Laughter can’t be good from the person holding a gun in his face.

“Blonde kid, huh?” the man echoes. “Has a penchant for, ah, repurposing items, perhaps?” That’s specific, but...the phone attached to a football. Batteries carefully and deliberately extracted. The three rearranged phones. James nods. Another fit of terrifying laughter. “He called him his son? Oh, this is even better than I could have hoped for. MacGyver, Dalton’s son? I mean, I could see the familial type of bond, but I didn’t think they’d be that upfront about it.”

“MacGy--who?” James is about twelve different kinds of lost, but for the love of God, Dalton will be paying double for the rest of his life. Or hell, kidnappings related to association has to be grounds for banning someone. “Look, I barely know either of them. I just fix his phone from time to time. If this is about him or his son, I can’t help you.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why you were here, waiting for Dalton? Knew exactly what he needed?” Shit. All he knows about the man is that he breaks phones habitually. But it’s going to be real difficult to convince a psychopath that he knows his regular phone repair order but not his son’s name. It’s the truth, but hell, even James doesn’t believe Dalton is for real sometimes.

“Wait, no, I just--”

“How long have you been working for the Phoenix Foundation?” James furrows his brow, confused and showing it without fully meaning to. The man sighs dramatically. “Phoenix Foundation, or are you old school and still calling it the Department of External Services? Stop playing dumb, it’s a waste of time and really not a good look.”

The Department of External Services? That sounds like a government sector, but it’s not one James has ever heard of. But if this man was ready to shoot someone over it, that makes it seem too important for James to be unaware of. Unless...secret government agency, crazy gun-wielding store crasher--no. No, there is no way that freaking _Dalton_ is a secret agent. He’s been a pain in the ass since the day James met him, he doesn’t get to be that cool.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not your guy; I can’t help you, I swear.”

“What, you want to get rid of me already? What if I need a phone repair, James?” He tugs on James’s name tag, and distantly James thinks that if the psychopath holding him at gunpoint can take the time to read his name tag, Dalton has no excuse to keep calling him Jim.

“Then leave your device and cell number on the counter and I’ll see you in 48 hours.” It’s just meant to be a grab for time, a desperate attempt to get this man the hell out of his store, but James realizes his mistake a second too late.

“Cell number?” the man echoes, delighted. The gun is painfully close to touching the space between James’s eyes. “Well look who’s employee of the month! Now just where would I find that number, James?”

“Computer,” he says, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He’s staring down the barrel of the gun while the man uses his free hand to turn on the computer. If he goes cross-eyed, he can see the bullet threatening to end his life. The thing is, when his mom was complaining about him not having kids, that wasn’t true. He has three, and he’d very much like to see them again. He wants to see Lily perform on bigger stages, because he knows it’s coming. He wants to see TJ graduate. He wants to see Spencer’s face when they get their LSAT results, wants to sit in the courtroom during their first trial. He wants to see TJ and Lily’s first kiss when they finally get their shit together and sort out their feelings. He looks at the bullet and sees all those things being taken away. 

The man must have found the number he was looking for, because his hand reaching for Jame’s phone in his pocket startles him out of his thoughts. He dials the number, listens to it ring six times. Slams his hand on the counter. James flinches violently. Dials again while James curls into himself. One ring, two--”Dalton,” a tired voice says.

James can’t hear the rest of the conversation. All he can think is that TJ’s psych textbook that she was studying out of last week talked about this. His brain protecting him, trying to make sure he won’t remember. 

But the noise wins out over his brain when a door breaks. 

It’s Dalton, of course it’s Dalton who breaks the door. Right next to him is his son, or not his son? Mac, it’s Mac. The blonde slips something off the counter and into his pocket, staying perfectly in stride with Dalton. 

“Let the phone guy go, Murdoc,” Dalton orders gruffly. Relief courses through him, nearly overwhelmingly so. And then the cold metal of the gun presses against his temple.

“No thank you,” the man, apparently Murdoc, says. “Though I’d be happy to give him to you in exchange for MacGyver.” 

“We don’t make deals like that,” Dalton says, his own gun raised and trained carefully. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward.

“Shame. Well, sorry, James,” Murdoc says loftily. “Looks like fixing his phone all those times isn’t worth your life.” The metal presses harder against his head.

“Hey! I’m happy to shoot first,” Dalton threatens. “Han Solo-type situation, you know?”

James stares at Dalton, unable to turn and gauge Murdoc’s reaction. Something catches his eye in his peripheral, though. He realizes that it’s Mac, trying to subtly get his attention. The young man pulls his head down and brings one arm up to cover it. He plays it off as a nervous hand through his hair and gets away with it because Murdoc is still trying to stare down Dalton, but Mac keeps his gaze locked with James.

A silent question: _get it_?

James nods as minutely as he possibly can. Mac nods back, steely-eyed. He taps three fingers against his side, then two, then one--

James drops down and pulls both arms over his head. A bang sounds out and James hesitantly opens his eyes as Murdoc falls. Mac is at his side barely a second later, pushing unceremoniously towards Dalton, who he’s never been so happy to see.

“The hell was that, kid?” the older man asks, rubbing one hand against his head.

“Homemade flash bomb,” Mac grins. “What? It’s a tech store, it’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet for this kind of stuff.”

Dalton just shakes his head. “You okay, Jim?”

Well, just having survived a hostage situation is as good a time as any to clear this one up. “My name is James! Not Jim!”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I DID! EVERY TIME YOU CAME INTO MY STORE, YOU BASTARD!”

“...oh. Yeah, that’s my bad,” Dalton concedes. “Mac, did you know his na--Mac!”

James looks over, startled, to find Mac leaning against the wall, looking down surprisedly at the growing red stain in his shirt. Dalton rushes over, James trailing uncertainly behind.

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” the blonde says. “Not a deep stab wound. Barely even a stab, really. More of a really aggressive poke.”

“An aggres--yeah, how about you just sit down for a sec there, pal?” Dalton says, helping Mac slide down to the floor. He and James hover over the young man, who’s still trying to convince them that he’s fine. “Uh-huh, sure. You be fine here on the ground then. Alright, this is gonna hurt.” Dalton sucks in a breath and then, with one more apologetic look, pushed both hands down against the stab wound.

Mac breathes out harshly, pain drawn across his face. “Yeah, that sucks,” he groans.

“Yeah, I know; I’m sorry. Just hang on for a bit longer, alright? Looks like we got some medics here now.” Sure enough, some EMTs have arrived, and quickly get Mac into an ambulance. He’s still alert and way calmer than James would expect from a man who just got freaking stabbed by a psychopath willing to kill their phone guy to get to him.

The ambulance drives away, leaving James and Dalton standing awkwardly in the parking lot. Only then does James remember the other revelation of the night. “Wait, so, that’s not actually your son?”

“What? No. You thought--when I said ‘kid’, I mean, you know, twenty-something genius with no common sense. Not my literal, biological child.” He shakes his head. “Look, I’m sure you have a million questions, but I don’t have the time to answer them now. I gotta--you know, hospital, I--I gotta go.”

“Yeah,” James nods. “Go.” And that leaves James, standing in the parking lot of his abandoned store, wondering what the hell his life has become. But one thought does come with full clarity.

Beau freaking Freeburg has damn sure never survived a hostage situation while on shift.

***

Halfway through convincing Spencer and TJ that he is, in fact, fine and they shouldn’t miss class just to hover (his mother already has that covered), James’s phone dings. _Car coming in 15. Get your questions ready. -Dalton_.

How did he--whatever. Not important. He gets the kids out of his house and, thankfully, on their way to school with five minutes to spare. True to Dalton’s excessively cryptic text, a dark SUV pulls up in his driveway. The driver just nods in response to his greeting and ignores all further attempts at conversation. Twenty painfully silent minutes later, they pull up at a hospital. Right on cue, his phone buzzes again. _Room 108_. 

James makes his way up to the specified room, fully prepared to make fun of the Bond-esque texts and car and aura of mystery. What happens instead is Dalton, keeping half an eye on a sleeping Mac, tells him a long story about an organization called the Phoenix Foundation, a young agent with a talent for improvisation, a brilliant hacker with a complicated backstory, and the lifestyle they took on that involved danger, risk, sacrifice, tenacity, and in some cases, the repurposing of cell phones.

Later that night, after the kids have finally gone home and his mom goes to bed, James finds himself feeling inspired to write for the first time in months (what? He’s been researching, and plotting, and...stuff…). He works through the small hours of the morning, determined to get everything swirling around in his head onto the pages. Finally, as the divine inspiration begins to fade, he comes to the last line, the only part he’d settled on long ago, and he changes it.

“W7 shared a small, knowing smile with his partner, and drove.”

***

It’s about a week later that James finally feels ready to go back to the store. It’s right in the middle of the day, the bustling population of LA surrounding him. And of course, all three kids were determined to take the same shift. So now the four of them are working on repair projects and enjoying the music Lily’s put on, just appreciating the company when the door opens, and in walks a familiar face that James can’t help but see in a new light.

“Mr. Dalton!” TJ exclaims. “What’d you break this time?” 

“The usual,” he says. “Need a new battery.” TJ, who’s currently manning the counter, reaches down for a spare, but James cuts in.

“I have a charged one back in the break room, actually! If you want to follow me.” They walk into the back room, shutting the door behind them, much to the young employees’ confusion. James hasn’t told them yet what Dalton told him, but after their concern over the past week, the sheer level of worry the incident has put them through, he feels he owes them the truth sooner or later.

“So, full disclosure,” Dalton says casually, “this is Mac’s phone. He pulled the battery out to make his little light grenade the other night. Only way I could get him to chill was to come replace it myself. Do you actually have a battery back here?”

“I do.” He unplugs it from the charger, holding it up. “And it’s on me. He saved my life, I feel like I owe him that much. Just this one, though,” he adds. “You’re still paying if you break any more of these damn things.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that for a bit still,” Dalton assures him. “We’re grounded here while Mac recovers.”

“Both of you?” Spy agencies don’t seem like they’d be fond of excess vacation days.

The agent (James knows an actual freaking secret agent!) nods. “Yep. Package deal, Mac and I. We do missions together or not at all.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?” Dalton looks like he could laugh at the question.

“You kidding me? A little stab wound can’t keep him down. Believe me, this isn’t the first one.” Seriously? The kid can’t be over thirty. James is well past that and has only just been through his first hold-up, much less a stab wound, what the hell? Then again, the injury rate of a secret operative is probably higher than that of a Genius Bar employee. Even the best Genius Bar manager in LA. “But even if it did, deal still holds. If he’s out, I’m out.”

Dalton shrugs like it’s no big deal, grabs the battery, and heads out. He says something to the kids, and maybe to James too, but he’s a bit lost in thought. How could he so nonchalantly talk about just...retiring? The man has managed to fight his way into a life straight out of the movies, filled with action and mystery and intrigue, and yet he’s prepared to just give it all up. It doesn’t make sense.

A noise startles him out of his musings. It’s Lily, holding her speaker right up to his ear with a mischievous grin. TJ laughs, looking heart-eyed as always when Lily’s involved. Spencer makes eye contact with him and rolls their eyes. TJ catches it and flips them the bird, to Lily’s delight. Just like that, the three of them are off, bickering and teasing and laughing. It’s easy and joyful, and while it’s a familiar sight, it’s always a welcome one.

James looks around at his makeshift family, and thinks he gets it.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go! Hope it made you folks smile a bit.
> 
> Please feel free to comment, or come yell at me about MacGyver or other fandoms on Tumblr (kay-bee-cee).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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